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Stop making your bed. Do you have layers on your bed? From the protection sheets to the three fleece blanks under your sherpa blanket and comforter? Top that with at least four pillows and making your sleep time home perfect every morning will take at least seven minutes.
Seven minutes every morning equals forty-nine minutes a week – approximately 196 minutes a month! You could watch two movies in that time period if you didn’t make your bed routinely.
Following regiment teaches discipline translating to awesome work ethic, but it prolongs the adjustment period for new alterations.
I have always loved making my bed. It feels like a big accomplishment every morning tucking in all the sheets precisely, nestling my fourteen stuffed animals in between my five pillows, and making sure my comforter does not hang too close to the ground. Days I do not want to get out of bed, checking this task off my list makes me feel capable.
Accustomed to the precision of my arrangement, I was intolerant of not having the same control out of the house. Making my bed had set a foundation of simple methods to make it appear I had it altogether. Rushing around work, when people got in my way I was brisk in apologies too intent on my purpose. Hanging out with friends had to be in the form of an activity because I grew listless amid gossip and personal conversation. I’d narrowed myself into a robot.
A messy room is really a work of art. I actually see it as a big secret: I know exactly where my keys are – in my coat pocket that’s strewn on the top mattress of my childhood bunk bed – and which of the socks by the door are clean. But no one else does.
It’s like not shaving for a week – you learn to love yourself just the way you are, be more relaxed in your own setting. That’s what it should be like at home because only then can your confidence shine for the rest of the world.
I still make my bed, on the occasional weekend after I have washed my sheets. Mostly I use my extra seven minutes in the morning to set a new tone for my day whether it be dancing to the soundtrack of Trolls or donning on my silver eye shadow (make up is hard).
Tweak the little habits in your life and you can grow your personality to be more accommodating to change. After all, that is the only constant in life.

Rich told me he had writer’s block so I told him to look at his work from another perspective. While he attempts to do so, indulging in Donkey Kong videos at twenty minute intervals, I contemplate about how easy it was to give advice but hard to implement.

My best friend gave me 642 Things to Write About book over a year and a half ago for moments like this, when I wanted my writing to go beyond storing a collection of memories. Excited, I tried my hand at it, but some prompts made me uncomfortable. Rationally I didn’t want to face situations that have happened to me and some I didn’t wan to imagine. Only now can I admit it is because I am very sheltered.

From the very beginning I have watched and read those with guaranteed happy endings. Maybe it began when I was in the womb; I was affected by all the couples’ happy ever afters in Bollywood films that my parents watched.
There is a childhood story passed around tables: my favorite movie at two had a character with my name in it, but in the movie the character falls down the stairs and dies. I picked up after watching it once, and after that I would wail when the stairs scene appeared. I refused to watch past that moment.
I still haven’t watched Titanic. I will not read Marley & Me. I wikipedia to know synopses of shows, movies and books because I refuse to invest my time in something that cannot strengthen my faith whatever the course of my journey I will be okay.
I cloistered myself I suppose; I was very spiteful of literature in high school, Shakespeare and A Great Gatsby and A Brave New World. Instead of learning about desires and consequences, I preferred a positive hero’s journey like The Misfits. No one dies. Hard work and embracing individuality wins. My heart felt warm and fuzzy at the end, full of hope.
That’s a feeling I continue to seek, a buildup of fireworks in my heart that peters out like molten lava. Not all actions have that outcome though and facing the consequences of being an impulsive free spirit caused me to ignore dissonant thoughts. One too many times, I stubbornly clung to a guy who didn’t want to be with me because I could not admit to myself there can not always be a happy ever after.

Maybe if I had invested myself more in the classics would I have been better prepared. Fiction is an adventurous genre, but the beauty lies in its possibilities. Talking animals? Technically they do, we just don’t understand them. Time machines? It’s going to happen. But these extremities aside, there is truth in luck and misfortune and curveballs and unexpected consequences.

Old habits are hard to give up, and I do still invest more time in TV shows that I know will give me a happy ending even if it means I will be watching it for a fifth time (is memorizing the lines of Charmed bad? I’m a nineties kid!), but I don’t want to be a sheltered writer.
The best storyteller ad libs what she already knows best, experiences that are raw from facing both pleasure and discontent. How could she ever have writer’s block?
With this new mentality, I dispel any block.

Sometimes I wish you read this blog. Not all the posts are great, but isn’t that what best friends do? Support?
Every time you post, I find time in my day to read. You just keep my blog open, a tab among twenty, forgotten.
I know you’re busy, but you’re the one who pushed me to put my writing out there. I say I write for myself, but I like knowing you’ll be reading too.
But you aren’t and I don’t know how to tell you to. Isn’t it something you just do when it’s your best friend? You’re supposed to know what matters to me and make it priority in your life.
I learn about your favorite games and favorite albums, but somehow my desire to make you happy has overwritten me in our relationship.
I don’t ask for things because that’s not who I am. I can live without flowers and chocolates and surprises. I’m so happy just spending time with you. But I surprise you with gifts and give you what you need – you can’t write me a short love letter?
You tell me one day you want to get me a puppy. You tell me that you’ll sing a song for me. Your words are just open thoughts. That’s okay. I like one day because it makes me think we’re on a wonderful journey together.
Maybe. For my first dating relationship, I expected more romance. You’re one of my best friends because you’re a great conversationalist and a challenger of my comfort zone. I love that we’re more; when we are walking side by side you naturally grab my hand and you always kiss my lips and my forehead when we part. When I prattle on about my students, you listen wholly. You tell me you love me and those are my favorite words.
I just wish you read my posts.

If by chance you’re like me, the recommended three minutes to brush your teeth feels like an eternity. Not to clean your teeth, but as your hand is busy holding the scrubbing bush, what can you do? Stare in the mirror? I know I’m beautiful and I certainly don’t want to be Narcissus about it.

Here are some things you can do while making your teeth whiter and dependent on one hand:

– Take inventory of what’s in your bathroom. Make a mental note of what you’ll need the next time you’re in the beauty aisle at Walmart.

– Pick out clothes for the day. This will save you the time you put in for searching for the right outfit after brushing your teeth.

– Look inside your refrigerator. Brew coffee. Albeit this one is easier if you’re living on the same floor as the kitchen or in an apartment, but same concept as outfit picking: time saved beginning the process of making a meal.

Thanksgiving may be over, but giving gratitude shout outs don’t have to end. Today, tomorrow, next month, do it March when tax returns are due, make a list of what you are grateful for or write a letter to someone telling why you are thankful to them. Frequenting this can lead to better health, but doing nice things goes even further.

Random acts of kindness make you feel like you have the potential to positively affect others. That power is soul replenishing decreasing stress levels which in return outputs charisma.

Emotion-action sequences are like a chemical reaction: what you put in is what you get, the outcome a combined effect of all the energy put in. It has to be a genuine choice.
In college, when I was trying to shed my loner image and embrace being an awesome friend, I went all out to appease people – as far as buying them things and doing assignments. I was so happy to have people acknowledge me that I thought it made us automatic friends and I went all out to show them how much they meant to me. Their reciprocation was not equal thus rendering my gratitude insincere.

The beauty of kindness begins with the awareness of circumstances around you. Being able to donate for relief funds, ending animal cruelty, and third world medical surgeries is an awesome choice. But doing nice things can be small things too.

Passing by, someone’s book falls out of their bag. Pick it up, return it. If someone’s a dollar short, pay it forward. The neighbor is juggling groceries and her kids, pitch in. See someone running for the bus, speak up to the driver.
Appreciate moments of weakness because without those there wouldn’t be moments of strength.

The best gift are true smiles shared. When random acts of kindness begin to add up, you earn a repertoire of trust for others to come to you for bigger needs. Sometimes you will be able to help, other times not. But what everyone looks for is someone to listen to them, a supporting and listening ear. Gracious is a perception, helpful is an action, empathy – that’s a character virtue. Be empathetic.